


The assassin and the dominatrix

by storyteller_200600



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Johnlock - Freeform, Strong Female Characters, fierce Lesbians, those two slay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 17:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10194707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyteller_200600/pseuds/storyteller_200600
Summary: "You can’t tell me you don’t miss it. We were unbeatable, the assassin and the dominatrix. Smart, beautiful, deadly. We were the perfect couple, you and I."One day, Irene Adler turns up in John's and Mary's flat to visit an old friend. And it's not John. Could there be more to his wife's past than he knows?A short fic set after the events of "The Sign of Three" (but Mary is not pregnant) from Mary's and Irene's perspective. I just wanted to give those two strong and independant women the kind of relationship they deserve.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic set after the events of "The Sign of Three" (but Mary is not pregnant) from Mary's and Irene's perspective. I just wanted to give those two strong and independant women the kind of relationship they deserve.
> 
> I apologize for all grammer and spelling mistakes, I am not a native speaker. Also, this is my first fic. I'm grateful for any feedback. Now enjoy some badass lesbian content. ;)

The **assassin and the dominatrix**

   


Mary’s perspective

It was a light summer afternoon, one of the rare days that were warm enough to feel like August but not quite so hot as to transform the city into a merciless desert of stone and concrete. They were just returning from 221B where they’d spent their Sunday in the company of Sherlock and Ms Hudson, enjoying a cooling breeze coming through the window. It had been a few months since the great detective’s return and things had quickly gone back to normal between the two men. Judging by the heated glazes she had noticed passing between them for the last couple of hours, she was sure her husband would excuse himself in about half an hour to attend to some business or other. If it had been with anybody else, she would have confronted him about it but as their story seemed to go further back than hers, she’d decided to tolerate the affair, even though it hurt, making John believe she didn’t know. Her husband opened the door and they continued chatting while walking up the stairs into their modern and light-flooded apartment. She was telling the story of how Sherlock had done something utterly ridiculous one time. “And he just went on talking, can you imagine the look on the poor man’s…”. Suddenly she stopped dead in the middle of her sentence. There was a woman in their living room, right in front of the window. Mary’s mouth fell open in astonishment as the figure continued to calmly watch the traffic down on the street. “What is it darling, you’ve gone so quiet all of a sudden?”, John emerged from the kitchen and froze as soon as he spotted the stranger in the tight black dress. After a few seconds he regained his composure? “Now…who are you?”, more curiosity than anger in his voice. Mary didn’t have to wait for the woman to turn and to offer them their name. She already knew, had recognized the silhouette at once, would always recognize it, no matter where, no matter when. She’d seen that face in every light, had perfectly memorized the curve of her body, knew exactly how that skin felt, the fabric of the dress. There was no mistaking her, dark brown hair thoroughly tucked away, expensive jewelry glimmering in the sun. And as the all too familiar voice broke the silence with the words: “Hello Dr. Watson. We’ve met before. It’s me, Irene Adler.”, she felt as if her world was slowly falling to pieces.

   


Irene’s perspective

“It’s me, Irene Adler.” After what seemed like an eternity, the Doctor did what she’d least expected: he giggled. “Well”, he finally managed to say “What a fortunate surprise. You know you could have just called, like normal people do.” “I’m terribly sorry to have disturbed you.” There was just the slightest bit of irony in her voice. “How is your _friend_ , Mr. Holmes by the way?” She made sure to put a special emphasis on the word and to give him her most meaningful smile. “He never replies to my texts. Guess I’ll have to come up with a new nickname for him, don’t you?” The reaction was immediate and had exactly the effect she’d hoped for. The Doctor went bright pink, cheeks glowing of embarrassment as he made sure not to meet her eyes. A small jolt of victory flickered through her veins. But that was not what she was here for. Focusing, she shifted her attention back to the blonde woman next to him who had by now managed to regain her composure. “Miss Adler, I’ve heard so much about you. What a pleasure to finally meet you! Won’t you have a seat?” She was putting on a rather good act, Irene noticed. Obviously, she still knew her business. With a sigh she let herself sink into the artfully arranged cushions of the white couch while enjoying Watson’s slightly puzzled look. Yes, this was really evolving in an interesting direction. “Please tell me”, Mary’s voice was friendly but cool as she took a set opposite her, “what lead you here?” “I just came by to visit an old friend.” She threw the woman an innocent glaze to make sure she knew exactly who was meant by that comment. The Doctor didn’t get it. He giggled awkwardly, then asked hesitantly: “You mean Sherlock? He doesn’t live here.” “I know.”, she shot back. “Of course.”, he muttered under his breath, “ And why wouldn’t you? You realize you sound just like him sometimes?”. Irene couldn’t help but smile. There it was again, the jealousy. “Would you be so nice as to go look for him, please!” it was more of an order than a question. “I’m confident me and your wife will get along just fine while you’re gone.” She knew he’d been waiting for an opportunity to be alone with Sherlock the whole afternoon and wasn’t surprised when he nodded and silently left the room. Part one of her plan had been successful, now the real game began.

“We were never friends” Now that there was no more need to pretend, the blonde’s words were cold as ice and razor sharp. Irene didn’t like to admit it but it hurt. More than she’d thought it would. Still, she managed to sustain her playful tone: “I’m well aware of that, darling, but I didn’t want to embarrass you by calling you _lover_ in front of your husband.” “Don’t call me that!”, the other woman seemed to have a hard hard time repressing her anger. “Then what do you want me to call you? Sweetheart? Honey? Or would you rather have Mary Watson?” the words sounded like poison in her mouth “I heard that’s what you call yourself these days. Rosamund Adler would have worked just as fine, I think.” She saw a tremble going through Mary’s body when hearing her real name. She probably hadn’t heard it in a very long time. How Irene had loved to say that name, she had screamed it, whispered it, repeated it like a prayer in those long, sweet nights many years ago. “So he doesn’t know anything?”, the other woman shook her head. Slowly the brunette let her eyes wander along the familiar features. Mary had aged, sorrow was engraved into her face and a deep burden clouded her once sparkling eyes. Yet, she had lost nothing of her beauty. If possible, she’d become even more powerful, more intriguing. “Why are you here?”, view and voice seemed hostile, distanced. Another sharp pain in her chest. “Because you deserve better. Is this really what you want? An unhappy marriage, a cheating husband, a” “Stop!” Mary jumped up, burning anger radiating from her every movement. _Fuck_. Irene thought. She’d forgotten just how hot the trained assassin was when angry. “You have ruined me once and I will not let you do it again!”, the woman in the dark blue button-down all but hissed. “I ruined you?”, for a second the dominatrix was speechless. “As far as I remember it was _you_ who left me! You broke my heart!” A sudden rush of heat had her on her feet as well. Mary’s hand instinctively moved to the pocket of her jeans “I was the unbeatable, the heartless, I had never failed, completed every assignment. No one facing my gun had ever survived. Until you came. You were the one exception. Because of you I lost everything. The woman who brought the killer to her knees. That’s everything you ever wanted to be.” _Too much_. This was too much, more than she could bear. Irene forced herself to cool down, not to let the words hurt her, to stay calm. When she spoke again, her voice was low and dangerous, almost seductive: “It never seemed to bother you back then. I always had the impression that you rather enjoyed it. Being the one to dominate the dominatrix. We had so much fun, my darling. “Fuck you Irene, Fuck you!” Mary was now shouting, all effort to keep herself together gone and abandoned. There was no more affection in her face. Only hate. What had happened to the woman Irene used to know? Where had she gone? Falling in love had been the biggest mistake in her entire life. And somehow, she still wasn’t over it. Even now, she didn’t know if she wanted to strangle or kiss Mary. But whatever she chose, it would only make things worse. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and sincere. “I loved you Mary. I still do. And at some point I thought you did, too.” Slowly, she looked up and their eyes locked. “You can’t tell me you don’t miss it. We were unbeatable, the assassin and the dominatrix. Smart, beautiful, deadly. We were the perfect couple, you and I. There was nobody in London who hadn’t heard of us, who didn’t fear us.” Carefully Irene moved closer, noticing the tiniest of sparks in the blonde’s eyes. “I’ve never loved anyone like you, Mary. I loved watching the way you move, the way you fight. I loved listening to your breathing and hearing you laugh. I love the feeling of my fingers in your hair. I love to touch your skin, so soft and warm.” Irene couldn’t remember when she had shifted from past to present tense. It didn’t matter. Very slowly she moved her hand to the other woman’s face, lightly stroking her cheek. At first Mary tensed, then she quickly softened and melted into the touch, all hate and anger leaving her eyes. It felt as if their skin was on fire.

   


Mary’s perspective

It seemed as if the earth had stopped turning, as if the whole universe was holding its breath. “I love to kiss your lips. I love to taste your skin.”, she murmured as she pressed her mouth to Irene’s. This was what she dreamed of every time she kissed John, this was the picture she saw every time she closed her eyes. The flat, the city, all these things suddenly lost their importance, ceased to exist. Everything that mattered was the woman in front of her, the soft lips moving in unison with hers. Mary was intoxicated by the sweet perfume she knew all too well. Her mouth moved to the delicate neck, roaming deeper and deeper while her hands undid the brunette’s artful hairdo. All she could think of was soft, brown curls and ivory skin, her breath going faster by the second. Then, somehow, her shirt was gone and she was lying on the couch, Irene beneath her a hot and beautiful mess. “Still where I remember it” the other woman smirked as she pulled the knife from the hidden pocket in Mary’s jeans and tossed it aside carelessly. That’s where it still lay hours later when John found his wife on the couch, flush on her cheeks, hair messy and an earnest look on her face. When she looked up, there was a fire in her eyes he had never seen before. “John.”, she said, “I think we need to talk”.


End file.
